Grief
by snapesgirl21
Summary: Grief (n.) a deep sadness caused especially by someone's death. A look at Ranger's grief when his daughter dies. One-shot from Ranger's POV. Tissues may be needed (you've been warned).


_A/N: I don't own anything you recognize. _

_Grief fills the room up of my absent child,__  
__Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,__  
__Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words,__  
__Remembers me of his gracious parts,__  
__Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form._

_~William Shakespeare_

How long can you hold the hand of your dead child before you have to let it go?

Because letting go meant accepting that she was gone. She'd never smile, laugh, cry or roll her eyes again. Her heart—the heart that I had helped to create—no longer beat in her chest. My blood no longer flowed through her veins, but was pooling in her lifeless body, waiting to be drained and replaced with formaldehyde.

Rachel was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, sobbing as she held Julie's other hand to her chest. Ron sat next to Rachel, rubbing her back and staring absently at Julie. He wasn't trained to compartmentalize the way I had been, but he doing his best to stay strong in the moment. Despite my training, I felt paralyzed with pain in my chair, staring at her hand in mine. It was small, cold and her complexion was a couple of shades lighter than mine. Her fingernails were painted blue and glittered slightly in the light. There was a scar that ran the length of her index finger that she'd gotten when she was five and had accidentally thrown a ball through Ron's car window. She'd tried to reach in the car to get the ball out to avoid getting in trouble, and had ended up needing ten stitches. A small scar on her wrist had been a reminder of the time when she was being held by Edward Scrog. He'd handcuffed her at one point and she'd pulled at the restraints, leaving a long scratch around her wrist. Two days ago, Julie had been diving off the board into the family's pool and had misjudged when she tried to make a flip and had hit her head on the board as she came down. She had broken her neck and sustained a traumatic brain injury that had left her on life support. She had been declared brain-dead five hours before dying.

Julie had been dead for over an hour when the nurse arrived to tell us that they needed to start getting Julie ready to go to the morgue to await pick up by the funeral home. Ron almost dragged Rachel from the room as she sobbed, saying she couldn't leave her baby. I stood from my chair and bent over Julie, kissing her forehead. I brushed a hand over her hair and breathed in the smell of her shampoo. I recalled the day her adoption had been finalized. I had left the court with Rachel and Ron and had gone back to their house for lunch. Afterwards, I'd been sitting outside on the veranda with Julie while she had sat in my lap and pretended to feed a doll. I had stroked her hair, not letting myself think too much about what my decision to let Ron adopt her had meant. I had already told Rachel and Ron that I would stay away for a while, so that Julie would be able to get used to Ron's role in her life without me confusing her. I had told Julie that, even though Ron was her new dad, she would always be my girl and I'd love her forever. At three years old, she hadn't understood what that meant, but she had said "I love you, Daddy". When I got back to my hotel room that night, I had found a seashell in my pocket. Julie had picked it up at the beach the day before and had been showing it to me as we'd sat on the veranda. I hadn't felt her put it in my pocket, and had wondered if she had done it on accident, or if something in her had known I would cherish that little reminder of her every day that I didn't see her. As I heard the nurses start to come back in the room, I pressed my cheek next to Julie's and whispered in her ear.

"You've always been my girl, and I'll love you forever."

I talked to Ron after I left Julie's room, and agreed to be at the mortuary at noon to make the arrangements for the funeral. Rachel had gone down to the lobby to be with her mother, and Ron told me he'd already gotten a sedative from their doctor to help Rachel sleep. It went without saying that neither of us would be getting any sleep, but that Rachel needed sleep in order to not completely lose her mind.

When I got off the elevator on my floor thirty minutes later, it was with no memory of having driven from the hospital to the Rangeman office. I sat down on the couch in the living room, which overlooked the Miami skyline. A few lights shown from office buildings that were being cleaned and nightclubs that were getting ready to close. I couldn't let myself think about Julie being dead in that moment. I knew if I did that I'd start drinking, or worse I'd start crying. I had to keep it together, even though I was alone in the apartment, because if I couldn't keep it together when I was alone, what chance did I stand when I was with others?

As I watched the sunrise, I thought about how Julie's existence had been an unplanned path in my life's journey. When Rachel, the younger sister of one of my unit members, had talked me after I'd gone back to Afghanistan to tell me that she was pregnant, I'd been blown away, but had immediately known what I should do. I had to be responsible for seducing the naïve eighteen year-old and provide for the child I'd helped to create one drunken night on a beach. I had taken a seventy-two-hour leave, flown back to Miami long enough to marry Rachel at city hall and made arrangements for part of my pay to be put into her bank account. We arranged to keep in contact about plans for the baby and the divorce we had agreed would come once the baby was born.

Julie had been born on my twenty-first birthday, four days after her due date. I had been able to get two weeks' leave and went to see her when she was a week old. Holding her for the first time had been overwhelming. She had looked just like me, but was so tiny that I had worried that I might hurt her. I had told myself that I wasn't going to be getting too emotionally attached to the baby, as she'd be living in Miami with Rachel, and I was going back to Jersey once my tour was over. But as I'd held Julie Elizabeth Manoso for the first time, I realized that paternal instinct wasn't something I'd be able to totally suppress. I knew I'd fight and die for her if necessary. I'd always be sure she was taken care of, and as much as I'd resist it, I would love that little girl until the day I died.

The next day passed in a blur of emotion as I went with Rachel and Ron to plan Julie's funeral, which would be three days after her death. My parents and Grandma Rosa were flying down from Newark, and would be staying in two of the apartments on the floor below mine. I'd had three missed calls from Stephanie, but I couldn't bring myself to call her back or listen to her messages. I knew it would be my undoing to hear her voice, remembering the lengths she had gone through to help me save Julie during her kidnapping. She had told me on more than one occasion that she had really liked Julie, and Julie had loved Stephanie, asking if I was dating her yet every time I had visited. After I left the funeral home, I threw myself into work, trying to distract myself from my pain until the viewing the following day. At seven I went up to my apartment to eat dinner and work from my den. I started to feel tired around eleven, having been awake for almost thirty-six hours, and was about to go to bed to attempt sleep when the phone rang.

"There's a woman here to see you," the desk manager said. "Her name is Stephanie Plum."

My heart jumped to my throat. She had come to Miami after not being able to get in touch with me. I had no doubt Tank had told her what happened, but I hadn't expected her to show up.

"Send her up," I said and disconnected the call.

I waited until I heard the elevator ding to open the door. Stephanie was wearing jeans and a blue sweater. I knew it had been snowing in Trenton when I'd left for Miami two days earlier, and imagined it had continued. She was carrying a green duffle bag and her expression was worried as she looked at me. I took her hand and pulled her into the apartment, not saying a word as we walked to the bedroom. I took her bag, tossed it aside and pulled her sweater off over her head before I kissed her.

I needed her. I needed to lose myself in the woman I loved more than anyone, with the exception of Julie. Stephanie knew what I needed and didn't resist, instead pulling my t-shirt over my head and moving on to my belt buckle. We were both naked within a minute and I guided her over to the bed, where I kissed or touched every inch of her body. I buried myself inside, resting the back of her knees on my biceps, allowing me to go deeper. She never broke eye contact as she ran her fingers up my back and through my hair, moaning and gasping with pleasure. As I came inside her, the walls I'd built up around my emotions and pain came crumbling down.

The tears had started to fall as I'd shuddered the last time, and I immediately pulled away from Stephanie and stood up, leaving the room. I didn't want her to see me like this, as I knew I was too far gone to stop what was going to happen. I went into my dressing room and leaned against the wall next to the dresser, bending over and holding onto my knees as I gasped, trying to breathe. I slid down the wall, rested my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands.

My innocent twelve year-old daughter was dead, and her thirty-three year-old father—a man who had stolen, tortured and killed— was still alive. Ron and I had dreaded the days when she would start dating, but now we'd give anything to have to beat the boys away and to listen to Rachel worry about Julie getting pregnant accidentally the way she had. I would never get another phone call from Julie, I would never pay another child support payment, and I'd never have to figure out what to send her for another birthday or Christmas. My grief was causing me physical pain, and my body shook with the sobs that I kept trying to stop.

I heard Stephanie's light footsteps on the carpet as she came into the room, but I didn't look at her. I couldn't do it. She said nothing as she sat down next to me, put an arm around back and rested her head my shoulder, placing small kisses there. She ran her other hand up and down one of my legs. I wasn't sure how long we sat like that, but I was able to pull myself together and wiped away my tears. When I was finally able to look at Stephanie, I could tell she'd been fighting tears.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked in a whisper.

I tucked a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear and ran my thumb over her cheekbone. "You're doing it, babe."

Stephanie accompanied me to the airport the next morning to pick up my parents and grandmother. She had never met them, and I was realizing how unfortunate it was that it had taken Julie's death for her to be introduced to my family. We had never been a couple, even though I knew she would probably be open to it if she thought I was. She and Morelli had been on the outs for the past couple of months, and it was looking like it might stay that way. He had moved on to a nurse from St. Francis hospital, and Stephanie hadn't seemed too upset about it.

We waited in silence at the terminal where my family would disembark. I had reached over to hold Stephanie's hand, but hadn't looked at her or spoken. The release I'd experienced the night before had been cathartic, and had allowed me to focus again, but I hated that Stephanie had witnessed it. Even though I'd seen her in vulnerable positions, and I knew she'd never tell anyone what had happened, I hated that she'd seen me at a moment of weakness, even if it was grieving my daughter.

We'd been there about twenty minutes when my parents and Grandma Rosa appeared in front of us. My mother's and grandmother's eyes were red from crying and my father looked very somber. My mother walked directly to me and hugged me without pause.

"How are you doing?" She asked, holding me tightly.

"I'm okay."

"Liar," she said, patting my cheek.

I greeted everyone and introduced them to Stephanie. They all agreed it was a pleasure to meet, though they wished it were under better circumstances. I drove everyone back to Rangeman and the housekeeper, Maria, helped them get settled in their rooms. I had the lock on the elevator disabled so that they could move between my floor and their own without the need for a key fob, and Stephanie and I went upstairs, where my family would be joining us for lunch at noon. Stephanie had offered to give us privacy, but I had insisted she stay.

Lunch was a subdued affair. My mother was having difficulty keeping it together, and my grandmother looked tired. My father and Stephanie were able to have a semi-normal conversation, but I didn't participate very much. I was dreading the viewing, where Julie's three families would combine and see friends and classmates who wished to pay their respects to the family. I would have to see my child in a casket, wearing the last dress she would ever wear. I'd never been to a child's funeral, but I doubted any of them were easy, even if you weren't the father of the child.

My parents and grandmother went back to their rooms to rest after lunch, and I went down to my office to do some work. Stephanie said she'd hang around the apartment and would be ready to leave by five o'clock, as we needed to be at the funeral home by five-thirty. The viewing would be from six to eight, and the funeral would be the next morning at ten.

We arrived at the funeral home at five-thirty and we were sent to the viewing room for a private half-hour before anyone else started to arrive. Rachel, Ron and I went up to the front of the room, where Julie's casket rested with the lid open. Rachel had started sobbing before we even reached the casket, and I had taken a deep breath to fight through the emotions. Julie was wearing her favorite red dress, which had silver swirling designs on it. Her complexion was waxy and distorted up the make-up. Her brown hair fanned out on the pillow, and a rosary was fixed in her clasped hands. Looking down at her lifeless body, I felt like I wasn't even in my body anymore. It was almost as though I could see the picture of Julie's three parents standing over her, preparing themselves to bury their child.

I was pulled back to reality when I felt Rachel take my hand. I looked over at her and realized that Ron had gone to the back of the room where the rest of the family was standing.

"She's our baby," she said, not taking her eyes off Julie. "She may not have been expected, and our family wasn't the most conventional, but she was our girl. I never thought I'd be grateful for drunken stupidity and a smooth-talking soldier, but I am. Being her mom has been the best thing I could have ever known, but I wish I had asked you to be a bigger part of her life. I know she wished she could have seen you more often."

I squeezed Rachel's hand. "You and Ron have been good parents to her. I've never regretted the decision to let Ron adopt her because I knew she was happy and well cared for. Don't feel bad about how much involvement I've had. You did what you thought was best, and that's all I've ever wanted you to do."

I left Rachel at the casket and walked to the back of the room to talk to Kevin, Rachel's older brother and my former Army comrade. We'd served together in a specialist unit and I'd met Rachel through him one night when our unit had been on leave. Kevin had adored Julie, and I could tell he was hurting almost as much as Rachel, Ron and me.

The rest of the evening passed quickly as we greeted friends and extended family. Julie's friends were distraught at seeing her dead, but each girls' parents had said they thought it was important for them to have closure. Stephanie came to check on me regularly, asking if Rachel, Ron or I needed anything. She also tended to my parents and both of my grandmothers. My Grandma Bella lived in Miami and had come up to the hospital at one point before Julie died. Of everyone in my family, she had seen Julie the most. They all attended the same church, so Grandma had seen Julie every Sunday. Kevin sat in the seating area with Julie's sister and brother, Olivia and Tony, who were confused and sad, struggling to figure out what to do.

By the time the last of the mourners had left at eight-thirty, we were all physically and emotionally drained. We parted ways, knowing we'd see each other again in a little over twelve hours. After seeing my parents and grandmother to their floor, Stephanie and I went upstairs to my apartment, where I spent the next two hours making love to her. I couldn't find the words to tell her how much it meant to me that she was there, and how much she was helping me get through it, so I told her with my body. Stephanie had the ability to lift my spirits better than anyone, though she tended to be the cause of most of my stress. I laid awake that night after she had gone to sleep and watched her. I knew she loved me as much as I loved her, and it made me wonder exactly why I was keeping her at arm's length. She didn't seem to be headed back to Morelli, and I couldn't really use the excuse of keeping her safe as a reason to not have a regular relationship with her, as she'd already been the target of someone looking to get to me on two occasions. The fact that I loved her and would do anything to keep her safe apparently escaped the attention of no one, including my family. Maybe it was time to consider getting more involved with Stephanie, but I also didn't want to use her as a means to cope with Julie's death. I needed to be smart about it.

I was barely able to focus on Julie's funeral the next morning. I sat in the front row of the church with Rachel, Ron, Olivia and Tony, fighting the tears that threatened to emerge again. My father, mother, grandmothers and Stephanie were sitting in the pew behind us, and I could hear all of them, with the exception of my father, weeping. Ron, his father, Rachel's father, my father, Kevin and I were all to be the pall bearers. The idea of carrying my daughter's body to its final resting place made me feel sick, and I had no doubt that it had the same effect on the other men. With the last prayers and instructions from the priest, the church started to empty as the mourners left. The burial service was for immediate family only with the exception of Kevin due to the extensive size of our three families. I had asked my sisters and brother not to come for that reason alone, and they had understood. I think they had almost been relieved that they didn't have to witness their niece's funeral.

Once it was just the family remaining, we carried the casket down the aisle to the hearse. The knowledge that part of me lay inside and was going to be buried in the ground within a few minutes made it feel as though the casket weighed a thousand pounds. I drove one of the Rangeman Escalades so that Stephanie, my parents and both of my grandmothers could ride with me. None of us spoke as we drove the ten miles to the cemetery where Julie would be buried. When we arrived, everyone got out of the car and made their way to the burial site, except for Stephanie. She lagged back, grabbing me by the arm.

"I'm staying in the car," she said. "You know I don't do well at these things, and I don't want to take away from the family time."

I grabbed her hand and pulled her with me. "You're coming."

She attempted to argue, but I pinned her against the car with my body. "Stephanie, I need you to be there with me when I bury my daughter. I don't care how much you cry, I just need you there with me."

She watched me for a moment before nodding and taking my hand. We walked up to the tent where several chairs were lined alongside the casket. I told my parents and my grandmothers to take the seats so that I could stand with Stephanie next to me. I could hear her taking deep breaths, trying to keep it together. The priest spoke, committing Julie's body to the earth and her soul to God. Rachel was sobbing, as were all of our mothers and grandmothers and Stephanie. Tears fell down Ron's cheeks and Kevin's eyes were bright. I couldn't see anything through my tears, but put my arm around Stephanie and pulled her close. The service lasted ten minutes and we all headed back to our cars, with the exception of Rachel, who didn't seem to be able to move. Ron couldn't convince her to get up, nor could Kevin or her father. I told Stephanie that I would catch up to everyone and went to sit down next to Rachel. She didn't look at me at first, but eventually faced me. Her expression was haunted, and I knew part of Rachel's spirit was broken.

"Rachel, it's time to go," I said. "We have to leave her now."

"How have you managed all these years? Not seeing her every day?" Rachel asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as though she didn't want Julie to hear us.

"It hasn't always been easy, but I knew she was where she needed to be, and that she was looked after and loved," I replied. "I think we'll have to use a similar mindset to help us move forward. She won't get hurt or kidnapped. No boy will ever break her heart or get her pregnant. She'll always be twelve years old to us."

My throat began to tightening as I spoke to Rachel, and I stared straight ahead at the casket. This was the last time Rachel and I would be together with our daughter, and it was making me more emotional than I had expected. We had only been a family for about four months after Julie was born until the divorce was final, and we'd never lived together under the same roof except for the two weeks that I'd stayed with Rachel after Julie was born to help out. But we had been a family nonetheless.

Rachel and I sat there for another few minutes before she said she felt like she could go. I walked her back to where the cars were waiting and we headed to Rachel's and Ron's house for the wake. My parents and Grandma Bella were going back to Newark on a five o'clock plane, so we started making plans to leave after a couple of hours. I made my way to the backyard, where Rachel and Ron were at their patio table watching the kids play in the yard.

"We're leaving," I said as I approached. "We have to get to the airport by three-thirty for my family to head home."

"How long are you in Miami?" Ron asked.

"Probably another day or two. I haven't arranged a flight yet."

Rachel stood up and hugged me. "I still want to hear from you now and then," she said. "I want to know how your life is going. And for Julie's sake, I hope you get your head out of your ass and get serious with Stephanie. I know it's what she always wanted."

I chuckled slightly. "Yes, I know she did. Take care, Rachel."

Ron shook my hand. "Thank you for trusting me with your daughter. I can't imagine what it took for you to let me adopt Julie, but I'm always going to be grateful that you gave me the opportunity to be her dad."

"You were good at it," I told him. "Better than I could have been."

Before I went to collect my family and Stephanie, I walked down the hall to Julie's bedroom. It was painted light blue and the carpet was a tan plush. Her twin bed was made up in a brown quilt. A jacket was hanging over the back of her desk chair, and her homework was still laid out on the desk. She'd written a report about the American Revolution. She'd gotten a perfect score on it, and her teacher had praised her for her attention to detail. There was a full length mirror attached to her wall and pictures littered the edges of it. Most were of her with her friends, but there was one of her with Rachel and Ron when they'd gone to New York on vacation last year, and one of her with me. We'd taken the photo during the first visit I'd made to her after the kidnapping. She had wanted to get to know me better, and had asked her Rachel and me if she could call me from time to time.

I sat down on her bed, recalling the last conversation we'd had. I'd been in Miami on a visit just a month earlier. She was excited that she had been accepted into an accelerated program at her school, which would look good when she went to apply to colleges if she could stay in the program through high school graduation.

"Mom says I get my brains from you," she had told me. "And my attitude."

Very true. She was a lot like me when I had been her age, minus growing up just outside the ghetto and getting daily ass-kickings from the other kids.

As I'd been leaving, Julie had hugged me and had whispered "I love you, Dad."

She hadn't called me Dad since she was three years old, and then it had been because she only knew that as my name. I had driven back to Rangeman a bit stunned by her words, but it had made me feel good that she not only could say she loved me, but felt that she could call me Dad. The realization that those were the last words she said to me brought tears to my eyes again. I put my head in my hands and pulled myself together. For a man who had lived through hell during his time in Special Forces, I'd have thought that I could have kept it together a little better.

But even soldiers are human, I reminded myself as I stood to leave the room. I paused in front of the mirror and pulled off the picture of Julie and me and tucked it in my pocket.

_**Three weeks later…**_

I knocked once on Stephanie's door and opened it using the keys I'd had made the last time we'd installed new locks on her door. I knew she thought I still picked the lock, or possibly vaporized through it, but the reality was far less exciting. She had sent me a text message earlier in the day, asking me to come over as soon as I could. I had been in meetings all day, so I hadn't seen the message until twenty minutes before I'd left.

I walked in the apartment to find Stephanie pacing the living room floor. She was dressed in jeans and a green shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

"You're looking a little crazy, babe."

"We've got to talk," she said, sitting down on the couch. I went over and sat down next to her and turned to face her.

"What's the problem?"

Stephanie blew out a sigh before she spoke. "I'm pregnant."

The world seemed to stand still for several minutes while I processed what she had just told me. Stephanie and I hadn't been together since our time in Miami. I'd told her that I wanted to talk about us more in the future, but wanted to take some time to regroup after losing Julie. She had said she'd be waiting to hear from me, and I hadn't talked to her at all since coming back.

"Did you hear me?" she asked.

I nodded. "I'm just surprised. We used condoms, and they are generally pretty effective."

"We didn't that first time," she reminded me. "When I first got to the apartment."

I thought back and realized she was right. I had just taken her to bed without thinking about anything except the fact that I needed to distract myself from my pain. That meant that this child had been conceived less than twenty-four hours after Julie had died.

"What do you want to do?" I asked, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice.

"I don't know for sure," Stephanie said. "I wanted to see where you were about us first. I don't want to do this alone, but I wasn't sure if you could handle this right now. It's so soon after Julie."

I watched Stephanie and took in what she was telling me. I was getting a second chance to be the father that Julie had deserved for me to be. I was in a better position in my life to provide for a child, both financially and emotionally, and this time I was having a child with a woman that I not only knew well, but who I loved tremendously. I remembered Julie's last words to me, and knew that I wanted to hear those words again.

"Let's do this, babe."


End file.
